


the seer

by poalimal



Series: WIP Amnesty [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Snippet, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 23:25:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15399894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poalimal/pseuds/poalimal
Summary: The secret Heimdall would hold close to him through the renewal and destruction of all words was this: death grieved him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _  
> One there was born in the bygone days,  
>  Of the race of the gods, and great was his might;  
> Nine [Jötun] women, at the world's edge,  
> Once bore the man so mighty in arms.  
> Gjolp there bore him, Greip there bore him,  
> Eistla bore him, and Eyrgjafa,  
> Ulfrun bore him, and Angeyja,  
> Imth and Atla, and Jarnsaxa.  
> Strong was he made with the strength of the earth,  
> With the ice-cold sea, and the blood of swine._

 

On the first and last day of all things, Heimdall was mourning his unique position as the son of eight mothers - plus one.

"Have you eaten already, young one?" Greip said. As ever, she did not give him a chance to respond. "Sisters, have you fed him?"

Heimdall fought back a sigh.

"He looks like bluebone," Jarnsaxa said, sniffing. "I shall get you a pig, my warrior son!"

"And I shall slaughter it," Gjalp said. The bespelled shells around her neck made a bell-like sound when she tossed her head. "I have not killed in an age!"

"You almost killed me this past night," Ulfrun said.

"Sister, what mean you!" Gjalp shrieked. "Lying in front of our son. I am not she-who-murders-kin!"

"You near crushed me as we slept," said Ulfrun. "Let you leave more pigs for our son, she-who-gains-breadth."

Imor giggled and Gjalp muttered something insulting. Heimdall hid a smile in his hand, then startled when a sly little wave touched his forehead. Clever Angeyja, taking advantage of his blindness.

"Do you think they will have pigs in Asgard?" she asked airily. "I know how much you like them, son Heimdall."

Heimdall hated pigs. Their trembling snouts; the little whimpers they made when they drowned; their sticky, warm blood clotting thick in his throat. The secret Heimdall would hold close to him through the renewal and destruction of all words was this: death grieved him.

"Look how silent he is, how grave, how earth-dry he must be," clucked Imor, pulling at his cheeks. "He might as well faint in our arms, sisters!"

"Son-who-would-faint, be well," said Eyrgjafa anxiously. "We will get you a pig and you shall feast and not faint."

"Mothers," he said, deeply embarrassed. Strong Heimdall he? Faint? Not in all times. "I have eaten already." Yet not even the sweetest milk could have touched his stomach this morning.

He felt his mothers staring at him coldly. He warred against the desire to lower his head. Did not they all know that it had to be this way?

"And who is it who has fed you, son Heimdall?" asked Angeyja, cold and clear. "Certainly it was not I."

"Nor I," said Greip. "When is it you fed, young one? Sisters, which of you fed him?"

"Look not at me," murmured Ulfrun.

"He smells of hunger," Jarnsaxa said dubiously.

"Hunger I have none. I have fed myself, Mothers," he said. Eyrgjafa took a shallow breath. He continued: "On this of all days, it is especial difficult to be so near and yet unable to look upon those who bore me." He squeezed his eyes.

Accursed be the Sight which gave him death of all those before him and all those after him.

"Son of time and yet not of time," said Eistla, dear Mother Eistla, she of the quiet moon songs. "We would keep you here, if you would but bid it."

This was the secret of the Nine Mothers, which was no secret at all, for they told any who asked: they loved their son more even than they hated the land. For him, they would defy the orders of the ever-curious AllFather, would call on their brothers in Jotunheimm and demand Aesir blood, would give their own blood for his.

He reached out for them and was enveloped into their embrace. His grief became pigs' blood, stuck in his throat. He clung to his mothers as he had not done since he was a squall upon the waters.

He wished he had been born dull and useless. Then his mothers would not have cause to fear for him, to cry over him, to be cut off from him forever.

"I would bid you thus," he said, and he heard Jarnsaxa take breath to give the war cry. "But I will not see you dead." Greip seized him across his midsection in her abrupt way.

"My young one," she wept. "Of all things that plundering warlord might steal, why takes he my son?"

They all knew the answer to that. Questing selfish Odin, always searching forward with one eye and reaching back with the other, would do very well with another set of eyes at his back.

He also knew what they would not say: Odin would chase any of his sons to the very branches of Yggdrasil.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

The day after the crowning ceremony, Loki tore his room completely apart, even as time moved to tear him apart.

Heimdall blinked and blinked again: the visions would not resolve themselves. All strands wrapped up around Loki's throat. Here was knowledge of a truth that would gladly kill him.

So he knew.

Loki paused in burning his scrolls and looked up. His eyes were a bruised purple.

"You shall not sneak up on me this day, Heimdall," he snarled. "No! You shall never hide from my sight again."

Heimdall withdrew from Loki's sight and watched. His vision shuddered from where Loki scrabbled at it.

"Where hides he that is my kin?" he spat. "For you are my kin, are you not? Heimdall! Son of the Nine Jotunn Daughters."

Heimdall remained silent. There was nothing he could say that would not earn Loki's scorn.

"You must have been laughing to yourself, oh, _foolish_ Loki. Stupid and blind to the truth. It is a wonder it took me so long! When you of all others could hear the moonsong."

"Know you me to laugh, Laufeyson?" Heimdall inquired, letting himself be seen.

Loki startled and turned to his side, breathing hard. He narrowed his eyes. For a moment's breath they looked at each other in full, false brothers.

"Who is it says that laughter needs voice to be heard?" he murmured. "I scorned you in my heart many times. Will-weak Heimdall, tower-trapped Heimdall, family-lacked Heimdall, love-lost Heimdall! Pathetic, I thought you."

He laughed. "All of this we share," Loki said, foolish, selfish Loki. "Yet I did not see."

He turned towards the window. When he was young, he had cried himself hoarse until Odin and Frigga agreed to give him a room by the sea. Heimdall could have told him they would not understand. But Loki did not ask.

"Who is it says I do not hear you laugh?" Heimdall replied. "I know what is said of me."

 


End file.
